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SoDa WiTh No GaS
A first-time sponge. One waits for the magic of the egg whites and baking soda, but the cake falls flat on its face. That's Jal Pari and not even fairy magic can save this album.
For a debut solo release, it's wondrous how such a flat piece of work is selling like warm sticky buns on a chilly London morning. Courtesy of Mekaal Hasan, Aadat still remains the most polished number. Questionable, though is whether 3 versions of it on the same release do not seek to overplay the remaining weaker tracks.
Aankhoun Say has been better performed as Dil Harey by Gohar, but the album version featuring Atif doesn't manage to unite the vocals and music to a focus. This is not uncommon in the other numbers either, like Yaqeen. Ehsaas gets one tapping foot to 'Who Could it be Knockin' at my Door?' A clash between Western 80s' pace and lead notes and refined, subcontinental, yet misplaced here, voice, the two fight to smother each other. The music is more stubborn and in this track, wins- a surprise considering the album is dominated by Atif's singing and backed by extremely simplistic, impassive music-even for a popular genre.
Another awkward piece is Tehzeeb, a lonely blast from the past, a darker number that appears in no particular order of effect in the track listing. The vocals excel again, but then hardly any young man sings such sorrowful ghazal-inspired songs these days.
Bheegi Yaadein is the other re-recording and when starts off, seems better than a previous unplugged version. However, it not only plays to a ditto beat of Zindagi, but is based on similar strum and vocal patterns. Zindagi itself cautiously edges to a pop-rock boundary, but falls short of crossing. For a public pleaser, though, its tempo is right and the easy going riff is a good indicator of what Atif's guitarists are competent of when in the right state of mind.
The only sign of versatility is the title track with its exotic touch of classical guitar, diffused flutes and congos. Definitely worth 3 claps, yet one wonders if shorter aalaps would not have better complemented the music. Saving Atif unnecessary negative critique are Mahi Ve and Gal Sun Ja, not because they are exemplary musical or lyrical treats, but because Punjabi is sweet in any situation.
Generally, the affair is no surprise; haste makes waste and Atif couldn't have proven it in better fashion. The words might be excused considering pop is a genre meant to be taken with a bit of fluff, but throughout is a dearth of an essential ingredient for successful music-soul. Contrary to the 'sensitive music' mentioned on the sleeve, the album is an unfeeling length of pompous vocals on different paths from the most basic of melodic theory/expression. If Atif intends to back his vocals with solid praise and maturity, he ought to give equal attention to all aspects of his album the next solo time around.
If this were somebody's birthday cake, it would put the O in ordinary. 11 sponges baked on 1 decent egg white won't make you the Pillsbury man.
